


A Prelude to Death

by The_Fallen_Sky



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 04:37:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15700305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Fallen_Sky/pseuds/The_Fallen_Sky
Summary: His body tenses, almost imperceptibly, his breathing stops, his eyes widen, and she swears she can see a flame-like spark in the black depths of his pupils, just for an instant.





	A Prelude to Death

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot set during the game and is told from Ellie's POV. It could be taken as an AU, and probably will be by most people, but I think it could fit into canon, assuming you're of an open mind.

His pupils are dilated, nostrils flared, jaw clenched. A vein in his neck pulses with the rapid beating of his heart. His chest rises and falls in a steady, rhythmic fashion. His hands are clenched into fists, the knuckles turning white. His entire body is tense, like a coiled snake ready to strike.

She's seen him this way many times since their journey began, but this is the first time she's ever really appreciated the beauty of it.

A prelude to death.

That's what she calls it. Not that she's ever said it out loud, because she's afraid he'll think it's stupid. Still, she sees it every time he's about to kill something or someone, whether it be Infected or some asshole hunter. It's like he's preparing himself, getting ready to unleash all the pent-up anger, hate and rage that's been building in him over the years. It's a scary sight, but also awe-inspiring.

She didn't really pay attention to it at first, probably because she was too busy trying not to shit herself from fear of being killed...or worse. But, over time, she started to notice the signs, little indications of his mood, and she eventually figured out how to read his body language to know when it was okay to make jokes or ask questions, when it was time to shut up and when it was time to take cover while he dispensed death.

Given the current circumstances, she's not sure why she's thinking of the "beauty" of Joel killing people, but she finds herself fascinated with him in a way she never considered before.

Her eyes just keep drinking him in, memorizing every little detail, afraid she'll miss something important. And she almost does.

His body tenses, almost imperceptibly, his breathing stops, his eyes widen, and she swears she can see a flame-like spark in the black depths of his pupils, just for an instant.

And then it happens.

Her mouth is filled with a rush of thick, sticky, liquid warmth as his dick swells and pulses. It catches her off guard, nearly making her choke, but she gathers herself and manages to keep her composure. She's not exactly sure what to do, having never done this before, and she can't exactly ask Joel at the moment. She knows she has to do something, because her mouth is rapidly filling with liquid, and there's no sign of it stopping anytime soon. She only has seconds to weigh her options, which alternate between letting her mouth fill to the point of overflowing and then trying to spit without looking like a complete idiot, pulling back now, which would mean she'd get pelted in the face with any remaining shots, and then try to spit without looking like a complete idiot, or keeping her mouth right where it is and swallowing. Only the last option leaves her clean and looking somewhat dignified.

She chooses dignity.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

She startles awake at the sound of Joel coughing and grunting in pain, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

Immediately, she sits up and looks him over. He's pale and shivering, his face contorted in discomfort, his eyes closed in restless sleep.

Still alive.

She releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding, her heart-rate slowing, relief washing over her, grateful that Joel is still with her, still fighting.

She watches him sleep, sees the deep lines on his face, the gray in his hair and beard, realizing just how old and fragile he really is, how close to death. She focuses on his chest, the steady rise and fall, takes comfort in knowing that each rise means there's hope. 

A whimper draws her attention back to his face. A cloud of frozen breath escapes his lips, and she finds herself staring, her mind wandering, swirling with thoughts and emotions, like a tornado, searching for something, anything to distract her from the grimness of reality and the bleakness of a world without Joel. After several minutes of deep, even breathing, the whirlwind slowly dies down, a calmness descending upon her as her mind focuses on one particularly vivid memory... 

She can still feel her weight on her knees, the ache in her jaw, his essence on her tongue, the taste of it in her mouth. She can still see the flame-like spark in his eyes.

Despite the bone-chilling cold, she feels warmer than she has in weeks.


End file.
